


Part of Me, Indefinitely

by Daiako (Achrya)



Series: The Adventures of Spooky and Deadboy [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics)
Genre: Choking, Codependency, Dysfunctional Relationships, Ghost Sex, Kinda, M/M, Rutting, Sibling Incest, Spoilers, Tentacles, Touch-Starved, Trauma Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 14:45:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17830559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Daiako
Summary: There should probably be a limit on just how dysfunctional a family can be.That limit was not, it seemed, tentacle sex with ones sort of dead brother. Ben is more okay with that then he probably should be.





	Part of Me, Indefinitely

**Author's Note:**

> Ben and Klaus are the best part of the show, and so unrepentantly fucked up and I love them. 
> 
> If siblings who acknowledge each other as siblings banging is gross to you this isn't the story for you. It's incest folks, absolutely and unapologetically. I don't subscribe to that 'well technically...' line of reasoning.

 

_ There should probably be a limit on just how dysfunctional a family can be. _

Ben started thinking that when he was around ten, perhaps, and became aware of how different the rest of the world was to them. Oh, they’d known plenty about the world before then, their father was nothing if not diligent when it came to cramming history, politics, and current affairs into their head, but facts and grainy pictures of old white guys running the world weren’t the same as actually knowing people, real people. It wasn’t the same as realizing that other families didn’t work like they did, weren’t waking their kids up at 5am to run drills, eat a carefully balanced breakfast, study until their eyes swam, work out, go through medical exam after exam, do weapons and hand to hand training, be locked up in mausoleums,  and so much more. 

Other kids absolutely didn’t have monsters lying under this skin and answer to codenames and numbers before they had actual names of their owns. They didn’t have their brothers walk out one day and vanish, never to be seen again, or ones who choked down handfuls of pills to block out the screams of the dead. 

They didn’t have sisters and brothers who snuck around in the dead of night. At least he didn’t think they did, not like Alison and Luther did. By the time the concept of incest caught up with them they’d already learned to ignore coming around corners to find Alison and Luther breathless and embarrassed in some alcove, or bursting into their rooms in time to see them spring apart from each other, Luther redfaced and Alison clutching at askew clothing. They knew to disregard the quiet squeak of bedsprings in the dark before they knew this wasn’t what siblings did. 

Still there should probably have been a limit somewhere, an upward cap of just how messed up things could get, shouldn’t there? And yet they just kept reaching new heights, between Five’s whole _ thing,  _ Vanya, playing a major part in blowing up the planet, time travel...but here he was, in some strange dead but not exactly dead state, years in the past, staring at a wall as Klaus slips into the room, slips into the bed behind him, and breathes against the back of his neck, vodka tinged and hot. An arm wrap around him, tentative at first because there’s always the chance that it’ll pass right through him then with more confidence when it makes contact. 

He’s not which of them controls this. The others still can’t see him most of the time, and he’s still mostly tethered to Klaus, though he’s got a bit more distance now that his brother has toned it down to drinking and a lot of weed, but sometimes they can, when the moment is dire enough. And sometimes Klaus can touch him, and that sometimes is becoming less rare, lasting longer, and becoming less shocking.  

“Hey,” Klaus doesn’t quite slur against his skin as uncomfortably hot fingers creep under Ben’s t-shirt; Ben knows it’s actually him who’s cool, tepid according to Klaus, not his brother who is too hot. “So, and stop me if this is getting too weird for you-” 

Ben huffs out a laugh he can’t keep behind his teeth. There’s pressure behind his ribs, in his stomach, a warm slide under Klaus’ hand and he knows if he looks he’ll see his skin shifting, stretching, in response to the touch. Muscle memory for monsters. “You’re afraid it might be getting weird  _ now _ ?”

Klaus pauses then laughs with him, lips stretching into a smile at the back of his neck and leg coming up to fall over Ben’s him, drag and pin him closer. He’s laughing but he’s not distracted from his goal it seems, because his erection is pressing against him through their clothes and Klaus wastes no time in grinding against him in tight little circles. 

Klaus showed an unwavering focus, where drugs, sex, or annoying his siblings was concerned, that Ben found almost impressive.  

“Mm, well you know.” His other hand waves absently, saying a ton of things Ben understands completely. “Levels. Layers. There’s weird and then there is weird.” 

“Ah.” 

“Right. So, I was thinking-” 

“That is weird.” 

“That you’re doing this corporeal form thing really well these days, asshole. You stayed that way all night last time.” Klaus’ hand changed it’s path, sank deftly down over his abs towards the waistband of his jeans; the pressure inside of Ben followed like an eager eldritch puppy all but wagging its tail in anticipation. “So, I’m thinking we could try some things. Like when we were younger? A little good old fashioned experimentation. We can even take notes...I feel like dad would want us to take notes, for science.”

Ben rolls his eyes; are they fifteen again, making up reasons to fool around because it was one thing for Alison and Luther, and another thing for them, two boys with an unhealthy fondness for each other (Ben knows terms like trauma bonding now, and can see their childhood for what it was), only a clinical understanding of same sex attraction and how the world saw it ( _ When they’re thirteen some teen magazine interviews them and asks them silly questions about crushes, a misguided attempt to humanize them. Luther had gone bright red, Allison had clammed up for a change, Diego and Five had looked painfully confused, and Klaus had blithely declared, when asked if there was a girl he liked, that he didn’t like girls. Ben had never gotten to answer, because that had derailed the interview, and it was for the best because he probably would have said that both were nice and that would have just made the media storm that surged up that much worse. _ ) a whole host of body and mental issues they were afraid to touch. If Ben knew how to say and do all the right things he’d say something now about how this would be a good time to not fall back into old habits, about how they latched on because they both had demons under their skin, literally and figuratively, and what they’d thought was love was probably...not. 

He thinks Klaus must know that now, after Dave.

Maybe if he’d lived longer, gone out into the world...

But there hadn’t been any lessons on that sort of thing, Ben died early, and Ben he knows how to do what he’s always done: stick with Klaus.  

He knows words like codependency now too. 

“If you want to fuck you can just say that.” 

Klaus gasps. “Where’s the romance in that? The class? The emotion?” 

Ben wants to tell him to fuck right off but teeth rasp against the back of his neck, catch at the knob of his spine and a nimble tongue darts out, drags hot and wet before lips close around his skin. The sound he makes when his brain chooses that moment to short out is not an attractive one, yet Klaus hums happily around the mark he’s sucking on Ben’s neck and wiggles closer, wrapping Ben up and climbing half onto him. His mouth trails around, makes the trip with little bites and kisses, until Ben is under him, head tilted back Klaus to fit under his chin, shirt pushed up for hands that were familiar and foreign all at once. His skin ripples, a pond with a rock dropped into the center, stretches and it’s been so long since he felt it like this, saw it like this. 

For a second he’d a teenager again, shouting at Klaus for daring to reach under his shirt, for wanting to see what Ben wanted to keep hidden away, for being a freak who was interested in exploring all of him. 

And then he’s not. He’s himself, twenty something and thirty all at once, dead but not exactly, with a monster raging under his skin that hasn’t gotten any action in a long time, and wants. It’s tugging, demanding to be set free to slack a hunger They hadn’t been able to do anything about for so long. They’d watched Klaus, see others in Their place, seen him hurt and be hurt, love and lose, fall apart for others better than Ben had ever managed it. It had been…

It had been a long time. His body knows it, even though he hadn’t aged any, and every inch of him is pulled tight around his bones and his beast, is tingling and warming as much as his  _ tepid _ skin can, and it all wants. Hungers. Needs. He’s been starved of this, has been waiting since the solid moments became more frequent and Klaus began to touch him again, little brushes to the back of his hand, bumped shoulders, thighs touching, sleeping with a hand on Ben. 

It was something. Soothing at first, a balm over nerves that suddenly were alive again, he’d drunk it all in and wished fervently to be more solid just for the forgotten thrill of touch, of warmth and skin and how had he gone all those years without it? Then it was torture, tiny bits of fuel for a fire that wanted to devour everything in its sight. 

The tentacle that slips out his skin to wrap around Klaus’ wrist doesn’t hurt. It had, once upon a time, but practice and age make it like a whisper of an itch and then there’s more of  _ him _ , more feeling stretching out from his body and coiling tight around Klaus. His brother makes a sound of delight, drops down to press a messy kiss to the appendage like it’s the most normal thing in the world. He twists his hand around, goes from being caught by it to holding it, gripping and dragging his hand along the slick, bumpy length with just the right pressure and speed, like it hasn’t been any time at all since last time. 

His brother nuzzels the tenctacle, eyes closed and peaceful like only Klaus could be in this situation. It’s a brief moment, broken as soon as Klaus opens his eyes and catches Ben looking at him; his expression melts into a mischievous one. He turns his head, parts his lips and, with a cheeky wink, takes the tip of the tentacle into his mouth.    

“Fuck!” Ben bucks up and swings out all at once. His fist connects with the wall and pain rushes up his arm in the same instant his dick rubs against Klaus’ ass and an entirely different feeling crashes into him. Klaus’s tongue flicks up, curls against the tentacle and rubs against bumps and ridges as he sucked more into his mouth, and his hips rolls down. Ben flexes his hand, feels the sting, and lets it flop down to his side.  

It was conflicting, as things with Klaus tended to be. 

Klaus’ mouth was blistering hot around him, dripping wet with saliva that found it’s way past his pursed lips at the corner of his mouth and down the tentacle. The stirring in his chest was stronger, a roiling in his gut and around his lungs and heart, just waiting to be invited out to wind around Klaus, to cover him from head to toe, fill him up until Klaus was whimpering and begging him to stop, move him, have him, like they used to. He reached for his brother, curled a hand around his hip to hold him as he ground up against the curve of his ass, in the same breath his skin allowed another whisper though to shot up. This one wrapped around Klaus’ neck, constricted just a bit; Ben felt his brother swallow, heard him moan around the tentacle probing at the back of his throat. They both went still for a moment, considering each other with half lidded eyes. 

Ben thinks about Cha-Cha and Hazel, beating the absolute hell out his brother while Klaus squirms and laughs, and puts his throbbing hand over the bulge in the front of Klaus’ pants. He bucks up against his palm, moans brokenly as his head drops back and opens up for Ben to thrust deeper into the convulsing cavern of his throat. The tentacle around his throat tightens, carefully, slowly, heart thumping in time with the wheezing, choked sounds Klaus makes as their bodies rock together. He presses against Klaus’ cock harder, rubs and squeezes as best he can through skin tight, stiff jeans. 

Klaus’ lids flutter, his eyes roll back, and his mouth goes slack. Ben ruts up against him harder, plants his heels in the mattress and puts everything he has behind it while pulling Klaus down to match him. Another brush through his skin and another tentacle is grasping his brother, around the waist, delving into his pants; Ben feels it squirming and curling, shifts his grip to palm that too and shudders. It all goes to his dick, the tight suction of Klaus’ throat and mouth, the rigid sweat damp grind of Klaus length against him, the friction of his body rocking against him. 

Ben had always wondered if the thing under his skin, inside of him in a way that just didn’t make sense, was actually him or something else. Was he a They, and that’s why he felt everything and had some measure of control, or was he two (or more) seperate things, connected and with similar goals but not the same, and that’s why sometimes he had to fight the Beast tooth and nail? Did it matter, really, when Klaus existed and was messed up enough to want it all? Probably? Klaus might not appreciate fucking some creature from another dimension, or whatever, if that was the case. 

Or maybe he'd like it more. 

Ben was almost as worried by being unsure as he was by the thought of some lovecraftian horror choking his brother to get him off. Almost.  

They pull tighter around his brother’s neck; Klaus arches, cries out, and warm wetness seeps through his pants and against Ben’s palm. Ben stiffens, goes painfully tight and then unravels all at once. It’s practice, memory, reflex, that makes his teeth grind together and his jaw clench as he finishes, trapping all his noise in his throat. 

The tentacles withdraw as he comes down, leave Klaus’ mouth with an obscene slurp, unwrap from the blazing heat of his body, and come back to rest under his skin, calm. Klaus slumps down onto him in a boneless heap without the tentacles holding him, is sweaty and heavy and Ben becomes very aware of the fact they both finished in their pants when Klaus’ thigh presses against his crotch, be he just lays there and lets his brother fit against him, face against his neck, leg tossed over him, arm over his chest. 

They both breathe. Ben doesn’t think he needs to breathe, being dead and all, but it happens so he goes with it. 

This has got to be rock bottom. Ben can’t imagine any further layers of fucking weird exist, refuses to, and is willing to die (again) on the hill of this being as messed up as they can get. 

“I missed this.” Klaus informs him, dropping a kiss behind his ear. 

Ben cuts his eyes to the side, and questions the happy pulse under his skin. “Gross.” 

Klaus lifts up, smiling with too many teeth, and kisses him hard. His mouth tastes like ashes and vodka. 

**Author's Note:**

> Show: Luther is a virgin.
> 
> Me: Meh. I refuse to believe Alison didn't tap that. Refuse.
> 
>  
> 
> I kind of want to write a thing about Klaus and Ben's amazing adventures in experimental teenage sex, featuring Ben's body issues, but I told myself this was a one shot. So. Yeah.


End file.
